


I've Got You (Under My Skin)

by Lovespie (Snarryeyes)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M, Pining, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22545121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Lovespie
Summary: Chris starts receiving anonymous hate-mail. When the threats escalate to actual violence, Zach decides that the best approach is to keep as close as possible until the situation is resolved. Unfortunately that also means risking his heart.
Relationships: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Comments: 44
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU in as much as Zach never moved to New York. I'm also taking liberties with some other details.
> 
> Purely a work of fiction. No offense intended to those portrayed herein.

There’s always been something. From the moment they met, there was a connection. Being cast alongside each other in Trek and then paired in subsequent press tours naturally deepened their friendship. Add in the fact that they live within walking distance to each other, and it isn’t surprising that Chris has become one of his very best friends. There’s more to it, though, if he’s being honest. Zach isn’t entirely sure when it became a thing, but that’s what it’s called now. _You have a thing for him, don’t you?_ He’s heard that from more than one person; more than a handful actually. Apparently he’s woefully transparent in that regard, despite his repeated denials. There’s only one person who seems to be completely blind to it, and that person is Chris; which is probably a blessing, all things considered.

Punching in the security code as easily as if it’s his own, Zach pulls into Chris’ drive just as he does most Saturday mornings. This is part of their routine now, slotted right in after Zach’s dog walking and Chris’ morning jog, only missed when one of them is out of town. The only new thing Zach has added to the mix today is coffee; one for him because he didn’t get enough sleep, and one for Chris because if he only turned up with one he’d never hear the end of it. Chris loves his coffee.

“Chris?”

“Come on in!”

Balancing the tray of coffees on one hand, Zach pushes the front door open. It takes his eyes a few seconds to adjust from blinding sunshine to shadowed hallway, then Chris appears. Zach is glad he has coffee to distract him with at that point, because Chris is clearly just out of the shower, water still clinging to his hair and chest and it’s hard not to watch the tantalizingly slow descent of those droplets down the curves of muscle.

“Hey!” Chris says with one of those smiles that lights up his entire face, easily rivaling the California sun that Zach’s just stepped out of. “You brought Lamill?” he adds, spotting the coffee cups and groaning indecently, which doesn’t help Zach’s wandering mind one bit. “I love you, man.” 

Neither does that. Zach pulls himself together and hands the coffee over. “I thought you might. I’m also playing mailman this morning,” he adds, offering the selection of envelopes he’d thought to grab from the mailbox on his way past.

Chris is already inhaling the coffee. “Thanks,” he says, taking the mail as well. Something Zach can’t quite decipher passes across his face as his gaze sweeps the envelope on top, but it’s gone the next second, replaced by a grin. “If this is your way of proposing, I accept.”

Zach just rolls his eyes good-naturedly and plucks his own coffee from the tray. “Go get dressed or we’ll be late for the movie.” He gets a cheeky salute in return.

A week later, that momentary flicker of something in Chris’ expression has long gone from Zach’s mind. And it seems it barely left an imprint, because it takes him quite a while to catch on when Chris casually brings something up in conversation over a late breakfast in his kitchen.

“Have you ever been sent weird fan mail?”

Having only just taken a mouthful of food, Zach mulls the question over as he chews and swallows. “Well, I used to get a lot of people wanting Sylar to slice their heads open when I was doing Heroes.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s weird,” Chris agrees, prodding his eggs thoughtfully. “What about, you know, hate mail?”

“Hate as in you were rubbish in that part, it should have been insert heartthrob of choice? Yeah, of course. I’m pretty sure everyone in the business has to deal with that. For every fan, yadda yadda.”

“Actually, I meant more as in I’m going to kill you, you son of a bitch.”

Zach’s fork drops onto his plate with a clatter. “Are you serious? You’ve had _death threats_?”

Chris shrugs, but Zach can tell he’s not as relaxed about it as he’s pretending to be. “Not serious ones, I don’t think, probably just some kid’s idea of a prank.”

“Have you reported them?”

“No, my people don’t think it’s anything to be worried about. Plus Paramount won’t want anything to detract from the movie promotion.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Zach scoffs. It’s then that the memory of Chris’ strange expression surfaces, when he’d handed over the mail, and everything finally clicks into place. “You’re worried, though.”

Chris settles back in his chair. “No. Well, not really. I mean, obviously there’s always that doubt that someone could… you know. But it’s mainly just disconcerting not knowing what it’s all about.”

“Have you kept them? The letters?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I see them?”

“If you want,” Chris replies with another shrug, getting up to fetch them from a drawer.

Zach looks over each one in turn, disgust and anger swelling, and with each one, his concern deepens. The words are comprised of crudely cut-out newspaper clippings attached to blank pages, but, to him, the language used doesn’t suggest that they were sent by a kid. It’s cold. Calculated. He looks up at Chris, who’s watching him carefully over his coffee. “When did you get these?”

“I got the first a couple of weeks ago, the second a few days later, and the last one I got—“

“Last Saturday,” Zach finishes. In other circumstances he would have been amused by Chris’ surprised expression, but not today. “It was in the mail I gave you, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you say something then?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. I mean, I haven’t got one since so maybe it’s over and done with.”

Zach’s eyes flick from the page up to Chris’ face. “And if it’s not?”

Chris makes a non-committal noise and finishes his coffee in one gulp.

“Seriously, Chris, if you get another one, you need to report it.”

“Zach—”

“No, just promise me, okay?”

Chris stares at him for a few seconds, blinking. “Okay,” he says finally. “Okay, fine. But there probably won’t be any more so…” He collects the letters together and gets up, dumping them back where they’d originally been stashed. “You want more coffee?”

Zach’s gaze stays on the drawer; he’s not nearly so confident. “Yeah… sure.”

The issue isn’t so easy to dismiss from Zach’s mind after that. It stays with him for several days, nagging at the edges of his consciousness. But when another week goes by with no further letters, he concedes that maybe Chris was right after all.

It’s after their morning jog some days later that things change. Chris is happily crowing at reaching his home first, but his smile freezes on his face as he collects the mail.

It only takes Zach a second to catch on. “Another one?”

“…Yeah.”

Chris shows no sign of opening the envelope—he’s just standing there staring at it—so Zach takes it and tears it open. It only takes him a few seconds to read the three lines inside, and then he’s pushing Chris towards his door. “Okay, time to call the cops.”

“Can I see what it says?”

“It’s basically more of the same,” Zach deflects.

“Zach.” 

Chris stops in his tracks, staring Zach down as he holds out his hand. Zach reluctantly passes the letter over, watching as Chris quickly scans the page. His expression, so open and sunny only moments ago, clouds over before Zach’s eyes.

“Hey, it could still just be a kid acting out,” Zach says, attempting to offer reassurance, although his voice lacks any kind of conviction. Chris calls him on it, lifting his head to pin Zach with his bright blue gaze.

“You never believed that.”

Zach opens his mouth, ready to argue the point, but thinks better of it. He wants to be wrong—god knows he does—but his gut is telling him something different.

Chris looks back down at the letter. “Why do they hate me so much? What have I done?”

The hurt in his voice breaks Zach’s paralysis. He grabs hold of Chris’ shoulders. “Nothing. _Nothing_ , Chris. Whoever this is from… they’re not right in the head. Look, let’s just hand everything over to the police and let them track this asshole down. Okay?”

Chris nods mutely and allows Zach to guide him into the house.

Chris’ agent tries to talk him out of it, of course. Zach can hear her hollow reassurances down the phone as he stands next to Chris in the kitchen. When it becomes apparent that Chris has made up his mind, she changes tack and urges him to handle the matter delicately; the last thing he needs is this making it into the press. So he agrees to let her make some calls, arranging for a couple of detectives to visit him at some point that afternoon. It saves them the trouble—and potential paparazzi opportunity—of going to the station, but Chris is a bundle of anxiety for the next couple of hours. 

Zach stays with him, glad he had nothing solid planned for the day—nothing he can’t reorganize anyway. His attempts to distract Chris are only partially successful, though. He can see the thoughts continuing to churn behind Chris’ eyes and, even though he seems absorbed in the movie they put on, Chris is instantly out of his seat as soon as the gate buzzer sounds.

It goes pretty much the way Zach expects; the detectives ask a few questions, examine the letters, and then offer a lot of empty reassurances—they see this a lot, probably harmless, don’t worry—but they do at least promise to have the letters checked over by forensics. They also leave a number to contact if Chris has any cause for concern. It’s not much, but Chris definitely seems more relaxed after they’ve left. Zach takes that as a win.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of days later, when he finally gets home from a string of meetings and other engagements that last well into the evening, the sight of his unopened mail on the counter makes Zach realize he hasn’t spoken to Chris since that day he met with the detectives. They’ve texted a couple of times, sure, but Zach’s been so caught up with work that anything more hasn’t entered his mind. Feeling like the worst friend, he reaches for his phone. It seems he’s out of luck as he just gets Chris’ voicemail message.

“Hey, just checking in. Give me a call when you can.”

Zach sinks onto the couch and turns on the TV, expecting a wait, but Chris calls him back within ten minutes. “Sorry, I was in the shower.”

“No problem,” Zach says, muting the TV and trying very hard not to visualize a dripping wet Chris. “So how’s it going?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I haven’t had any more letters, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good. Have you heard back from the cops yet?”

“Yeah…”

Zach doesn’t like his tone. “And?”

Chris exhales heavily. “And they found a few useable fingerprints on a couple of the letters, but apparently they didn’t match anyone in their database. They basically reiterated that it was probably some kid’s idea of a joke and made me feel like an idiot for calling them.”

“You’re not an idiot—and technically, if anyone’s an idiot in this scenario, it’d me for pushing you to call them. Anyway, it’s always better to err on the side of caution, right? At least they’re aware of it now.”

“I guess.” 

Zach decides to change the subject to something he knows always raises Chris’ spirits—food. “Hey, you want to check out that new Italian place tomorrow? I’ve heard great things about it.”

“No, man, I can’t. Tomorrow’s lunch with Katie. She told me if I cancel again, she’s telling mom that it was me who trashed the backyard in tenth grade.”

“Wait,” Zach stops him, zeroing in on that tidbit immediately. “You trashed the backyard? How?”

“I didn’t mean to. Mike Flanagan dared me to drink ten shots in a row and I thought the trees were attacking me.” 

Zach bursts into laughter, waking Noah up in the process.

“To this day, mom thinks that it was a bunch of marauding raccoons.”

“God, I wish I’d known you back then,” Zach says, still grinning into the phone.

“Me too,” Chris replies in a wistful tone. “It would have been nice to have someone on my side, other than Katie of course.”

Zach decides that this topic needs pursuing further in person, which brings him back to his original query. “Okay, so if tomorrow’s out, how about Thursday?”

“Yeah, Thursday should be—” Chris stops speaking so abruptly that Zach thinks that his phone has cut out, but a cursory glance at the screen tells him that they’re still connected.

“Chris?”

“Hang on.” Chris’ voice is softer, and there’s a quality to it that Zach doesn’t like.

“What’s going on?”

“I heard a weird noise.”

“Chris, you’d better not be kidding around.”

“I’m not. I definitely heard something in the backyard.” There’s a rustle of clothing, presumably as Chris gets up to move closer to the source. “Fuck! I think there’s someone out there, Zach.”

“Okay, calm down. I’m sure—” 

He’s drowned out by an ear-splitting shriek and then the phone goes dead. Trying not to jump to the worst conclusion, Zach quickly calls him back. It goes straight to voicemail. Cursing, Zach jumps up and grabs his keys.

It’s a miracle that he’s not pulled over on the way to Chris’ place because he’s pretty sure he runs every light and breaks every speed limit. A colorful array of horrifying scenarios are playing in his mind, each one worse than the last, turning the journey into a panicked blur. 

Zach thanks the heavens that he knows the gate code so well, since Chris’ phone is still going straight to messages when he arrives. He can’t, however, do anything about the secure front door. Despite the almost overwhelming temptation to kick it down, Zach hammers on it instead.

“Chris? Chris! Open up!”

When there’s no immediate answer, he steps back and prepares to go the destructive route—door (and quite possible bodily injury) be damned—but just as he’s building up to it, he hears the scrape of a lock and the door opens.

“Zach?” 

Zach feelings travel briefly through relief before settling somewhere around irritation, mostly because Chris is looking at him like he doesn’t understand what could possibly have brought him over, like he didn’t just scare the living crap out of him.

“Not dead then,” Zach says by way of greeting, brushing past him. “Okay, good. I take it there are no marauding psychopaths in your backyard either.”

Chris has the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he turns. “Oh. Yeah, turns out that was a cat.”

“And you couldn’t call me back? Jesus, Chris.”

“Sorry! I dropped my phone and it kinda died.” He takes the phone out of his pocket and shows Zach the smashed black screen. “See?”

Zach grunts and sinks onto the couch, allowing the tension to drain out of him. He feels the couch shift as Chris sits next to him.

“I really am sorry,” Chris says again, softer but more earnest. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I guess I’m just a bit jumpy, what with everything that’s going on.”

Zach huffs a laugh and looks up at him. “Yeah. You and me both.”

“You can stay over if you want. I mean, it’s really late.”

It’s tempting. Now that the rush of adrenaline has subsided, Zach is realizing just how tired he is. But he has Noah and Skunk to consider, plus he’s not entirely sure how much shit he left turned on in his haste to get out of the house.

“Thanks, but I’d better get back.” Catching Chris’ guilt-laden expression, Zach nudges his elbow with a small smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Just stay away from marauding cats from now on, okay?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd update to give you guys something to read in the midst of this pandemic.

When Zach pulls up outside Joe’s house the following week, the only thing he’s worrying about is whether he remembered to refill the dogs’ water bowls after their earlier walk. He decides not to double-back to check since he’s pretty sure he did, and he’s only going to be at Joe’s for a couple of hours anyway. Heading to the front door, it opens before he even has a chance to knock.

“Hey!” he offers in greeting.

Joe appears surprised to see him, which is weird considering he’s been the one pressing for them to hang out. He’s also not returning Zach’s smile. “Uh… hey.”

Zach frowns. “What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t expect you.”

“Why?” Now Zach’s really starting to second-guess himself. “It was today, right?”

“No—yes, it was—but I mean, I thought you’d be at the hospital.”

“The hospital? Why?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Chris. It’s all over the news, man.”

Zach’s stomach plummets. “What? Tell me.”

“He was in an accident. They’re saying his car got shunted off the road—”

“Which hospital?” Zach’s already halfway back to his car.

“Cedars, but I don’t think—”

“I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

There’s already a substantial press presence outside Cedars Sinai, growing by the minute, but Zach manages to get past them without being spotted. After making some inquiries, he learns that Chris has been moved from the ER to a room on the sixth floor. They refuse to give him any more information than that.

As Zach heads up in the elevator, he wonders whether he’ll even be allowed to see Chris. He’s not family, after all. Maybe he should have waited it out a bit before racing down here, but he has a deep-seated need to see that Chris is okay. As one of the few who knows exactly what’s been going on, who’s been there for everything, it feels like they’re in this together.

Thankfully he’s spared any explanations. Chatting to a doctor in the hallway outside Chris’ room, Robert Pine spots Zach as soon as he rounds the corner and immediately waves him over.

“Hey, Zach.”

Nodding to the doctor as he departs, Zach wastes no time in asking, “How is he?”

“He took a nasty knock to the head and cracked a few ribs they think; he’ll have to stay in hospital for a few days for observation, but he’s gonna be fine.” Smiling reassuringly, Robert claps Zach on the arm. “Come on in.”

Zach catches a glimpse of Katie and Gwynne inside and hesitates. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re practically family.”

“Zachary,” Gwynne says, smiling warmly as she gets up to give him a hug.

“It’s Zach, Mom,” a tired voice corrects from the bed.

“Hush, _Christopher_ ,” she bats right back.

Smirking at her brother’s long-suffering expression, Katie gets up to give Zach a hug, too. “He’s a bit tired and grumpy.”

“I heard that.”

As Katie moves aside, Zach gets a full view of Chris for the first time. His head is heavily bandaged and there are scratches across his face and arms, but it’s not nearly as bad as Zach had feared. Calling upon his catholic upbringing, he offers up a silent prayer of thanks for whoever was watching over Chris on that street.

“How’re you feeling, buddy?”

Chris shifts slightly and instantly grimaces. “I’ve felt better.”

“What happened? Was it—” He breaks off at Chris’ warning look.

“I don’t know,” Chris says quickly, trying to cover the moment. “It’s a bit of a blur. I was driving back from a meeting and out of nowhere I got shunted from behind. The last thing I remember is spinning off the road.”

Robert shakes his head. “Damn driver didn’t even stop. You were lucky someone else came along right after.”

“Come on, let’s go grab some coffees,” Gwynne prompts, ushering the other two towards the door. “Do you want one, Zach?”

He flashes her a smile. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Settling on the chair Katie vacated, Zach waits for a few seconds after they leave before continuing in a lower voice. “You haven’t told them yet then?”

“No, I didn’t want to worry them over nothing.”

“This isn’t nothing, Chris! You could have been killed!”

“Yeah, I know that. And can we leave the lecture until my head doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall off?”

“Sorry,” Zach says, instantly remorseful. He shouldn’t be taking this out on Chris. “You just scared me, that’s all.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You do know this changes everything, don’t you?”

“We don’t know for sure that this was—”

“Come on, Chris, you said it yourself; it was a deliberate act. It’s too much of a coincidence. The police are going to take it a lot more seriously now, and so should you. And you should tell your folks; you don’t want them hearing it from somewhere else.”

“Yeah… okay.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Pine?” Two police officers are standing in the doorway. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

Zach looks to Chris. “You want me to wait outside?”

“No, it’s fine.”

The officers take notes as Chris tells them first about the hate-mail and then everything he can remember from the accident—which isn’t a whole lot, since it was over in a matter of seconds and he banged his head pretty hard. Still, they try to press for as many details as possible.

“Okay, thinking back to before you were hit, do you remember anything about the vehicle behind you—brand, color, anything at all.”

“I remember glancing in my rear view mirror…” Chris is silent for a few moments, his brow creased in thought. “It was an SUV, dark—black, I think—with tinted windows; I couldn’t see the driver. Sorry, that’s probably not much help.”

“It might be enough. We can take a look at any nearby traffic cameras and see if any vehicles in the area at the time match your description. There’s also going to be damage to the front of that vehicle so we can check in with any local auto-repair places.” He hands Chris a page from his pad with a scribbled name and number. “If you think of anything else in the meantime, give us a call.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Chris’ family returns just as the officers are leaving. Gwynne’s gaze shifts from their receding backs to her son. “Everything okay?”

Taking this as his cue to leave, Zach squeezes Chris’ arm and gets up. “I’m gonna let you guys talk. You want me to swing by tomorrow, Chris?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“No problem.” With a smile, he turns and nods politely at Chris’ folks. “Good to see you all again.”

Robert holds out a warm hand for him to shake. “Thanks for coming, Zach.”

“So he’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Zach says, collapsing on his couch with the phone pressed to his ear. “A bit battered and shaken up but he got off pretty lightly, especially considering—” He stops himself just in time, but Joe calls him on it.

“Considering what?”

Zach curses inwardly. “Just that, you know, it could have been a lot worse.”

Unfortunately Joe’s not buying it. “Okay what aren’t you telling me, little bro?”

Knowing that Joe will be like a dog with a bone with this, Zach sighs. “I can’t really talk about it; it’s not my place. Chris is just dealing with some stuff right now.”

Joe grunts but thankfully doesn’t press the issue. “Well give him my best next time you see him, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m going back tomorrow.”

“I guess that explains why you’ve been spending so much time together lately—more than usual, I mean. I was starting to think… well…”

“What?”

“Come on. Zach, are you really gonna make me say it? I know you’ve always had a thing for him.”

Zach rolls his eyes. There’s that phrase again. “We’re friends, Joe. That’s it.”

“And you’ve never once entertained the idea of it being more?” Huffing, Zach heads into the kitchen to make coffee. “I’m not hearing a no,” Joe presses, and Zach can practically hear the annoyingly smug grin.

“Okay, fine. Is he incredibly attractive? Yes, of course he is, and intelligent, and funny, and talented, and generous, and all manner of other amazing things. But he’s also incredibly _straight_ , Joe.”

“Uh-huh. He told you that?”

“Not implicitly, but it’s pretty obvious with the whole dating women thing.”

“…If you say so, buddy.”

A flare of intense irritation causes Zach to abruptly end the call and toss the phone aside. Skunk lets out a soft whine at his feet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating way later than intended, as per usual. Life has been kicking my ass.

Zach goes to visit Chris the next day, finding the whole family there once again. He loiters in the hallway for a moment, unsure whether to wait, but Robert soon waves him in.

“I come bearing coffee and pastries for the patient,” he announces after greetings are exchanged.

Chris groans as the scent hits his nostrils. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

It’s not like it’s the first time Chris has ever said it, but today, thanks no doubt to his chat with Joe, it leaves Zach feeling more than a little flustered. He brushes it off with a, “Yeah, yeah,” while paying a little too much attention to setting the cup and bag down on the bedside table. Fortunately Chris’ dad draws everyone’s attention before an awkward silence can descend.

“We should get going. You want us to pick up anything for you, Chris?”

“Some books and magazines would be great. I’m gonna go crazy stuck in this place.”

“The doctor said it’ll only be for a few more days, hon,” Gwynne replies.

“Yeah,” Katie chimes in, “quit being a grouch.”

“Hey, I’m injured; you’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“Says who?”

“Common decency?”

“Meh.”

Zach can’t help grinning; with an older sibling of his own, this kind of banter is familiar territory. “So you told them?” he asks once the door closes.

“Yeah,” Chris replies, peering into the bag that Zach has just deposited.

“How did they take it?”

Chris shrugs, taking a bite out of one of the pastries and pausing to fully appreciate the taste. “Man, that’s good. They didn’t make a big deal out of it—I mean, they tried to play the letters off as a stupid prank and the accident as an unfortunate coincidence—but I could tell they were shaken up. It’s not something they’ve ever had to deal with before. Dad’s had plenty of fan mail in his time, obviously, but never anything threatening.” He frowns, rubbing his temple. “I don’t know, maybe I did something—”

“Stop,” Zach says firmly. “Don’t even try to justify it, Chris. This has nothing to do with you and _everything_ to do with them. They don’t even know you.”

“I just…” Chris breaks off, letting his hand flop down to the bed. “I can’t stop thinking, why me?”

Zach can’t answer that. “Have you had any more letters?”

“No, not since the last one I showed you. And they’re no help at all.”

“Try not to think about it. Hopefully the cops will catch whoever’s responsible now they have a solid lead, and you can put this whole nightmare behind you.”

Chris grunts, rubbing his temple again as he accepts the coffee cup from Zach.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just this damn headache; it won’t go away.”

“You want me to get someone?”

“No, there’s no point. I can’t take any more pain meds for a couple of hours.” Chris takes a sip of coffee and hums. “This definitely helps, though.”

“I’m glad.”

Chris nudges his arm. “Come on, talk to me about whatever’s going on in your life. I’ve had enough of mine.”

Smiling, Zach complies.

They release Chris from hospital a couple of days later, under strict instructions to rest. Keen to avoid any lingering press, Zach sneaks him out the back way to drive him home. Chris’ car is going to be in the repair shop for some time.

“Happy to get out of there?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, sighing as he reclines his seat a little. “They still won’t let me do anything, though. I’m gonna go stir-crazy stuck at home.”

“It’s only until you heal up.”

Chris hums, but it sounds put-upon. 

“I mean you’re not missing anything important, right?” Zach presses on. “Nothing that can’t be rearranged?”

“I guess. Do you have much on?”

“Not really; a couple of auditions and a read through. I got sent a promising script, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, one of the few that’s not science fiction or horror. It’s actually a political drama. And I’ve heard great things about the director.”

“That’s awesome.”

Chatting about various upcoming projects and future plans significantly improves Chris’ mood and he’s smiling by the time they pull into his street. But all of Zach’s good work goes to waste as soon as Chris spots the paparazzi horde encamped outside his property. They must have been tipped off by someone at the hospital.

“Jesus, don’t they have anyone else to harass?”

“Probably not anyone as hot right now.” Zach immediately grimaces at his choice of words, rushing to clarify as Chris’ gaze swings back to him. “I mean, your accident got a lot of media attention. Every publication will be vying for the first picture of you alive and well.”

“Yeah, well, they can kiss my ass.”

Zach snorts, pulling smoothly into the driveway as Chris hits his gate remote. “I’m pretty sure that would only sell more papers.”

It takes around ten seconds to get from the car to the house—ten seconds of non-stop shouts, questions, and camera flashes. They both breathe a sigh of relief once they’re safely inside.

“I really hope they find something better to do, and quickly,” Chris mutters, massaging his temples.

“Go lie down,” Zach tells him, dropping Chris’ bags by the door. “I’ll bring you your meds.”

The fact that Chris immediately complies without a whiff of protest tells Zach that he’s in more pain than he’s letting on. Grabbing the bottle of pills from Chris’ bag, Zach heads towards the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

“Zach.”

It’s the tone of Chris’ voice that catches Zach’s attention more than his name. There’s a hint of fear in it that has Zach abandoning his task and almost running to him.

“What?”

Chris is standing next to his bed. Zach doesn’t see anything wrong until Chris turns, wide-eyed, and the piece of paper lying on his pillow comes into view. Zach can see the crudely cut newspaper clippings stuck on it from where he’s standing in the doorway.

“I found it right here—he was _right here_ , Zach.”

The message is clear. _Next time you’re dead_

“Okay, I’m calling the cops,” Zach says, pulling out his phone. As he quickly dials and presses the phone to his ear, it occurs to him that the person responsible could still be in the house and he goes to check the en-suite bathroom. It’s empty. “Stay right there,” he tells Chris on his way back through the bedroom. Relaying the address and situation to the operator, Zach cautiously checks the rest of the house. When he’s satisfied that they’re the only two people within it, he goes back to Chris.

“The cops are on their way. Did you leave any windows or doors unlocked?”

“I don’t think so.”

Zach doesn’t think so either—Chris isn’t the kind of person to be sloppy with security. “There’s a window open in the kitchen.” He glances back down at the note. “They knew you were in hospital and this place would be empty.”

“Fuck… I guess there’s no doubt anymore,” Chris says, face ashen. “I was still kinda hoping that accident was just that—an accident.”

Zach reaches out to grasp his arm. “They’re gonna catch whoever’s doing this, Chris.”

“Yeah.” Chris nods. “Yeah.”

The police arrive soon after. They take statements, dust for fingerprints, and search for any other evidence, but find nothing other than a partial shoe print in the backyard. It seems the most they can do is suggest upping security measures around the house. Agreeing to look into it, Chris sees them out, locking the door securely behind them.

Zach watches him walk slowly back into the room, catching the way his eyes dart around anxiously. “Hey, why don’t you come and stay with me for a while?”

Chris’ gaze instantly flies to meet his, something fierce igniting in the cool blue depths. “No. No, I’m not being chased out of my own house.”

“Okay, I’ll come stay with you then.”

“Zach—”

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself,” Zach tells him flatly, pulling out his phone. “I just need to ask Joe to drop in on Noah and Skunk.”

Sinking onto the couch, Chris sighs. “Fine, have it your way. But if you’re determined to stay here, then they can too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! You know I love your fur babies. Plus I’ll feel even safer with them here.”

Zach is rather more doubtful of their guard dog capabilities, but he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a very long wait for this chapter and I'm sorry for that. Some of you who follow me on tumblr will know that this year has been a huge strain, with my mother hospitalized and subsequently contracting Covid, an unexpected family death, and then the awful process of putting my mother into a care home because her Alzheimer's has significantly progressed. So, naturally, fandom has not been at the forefront of my mind. Having said that, I do intend to continue writing when I can as a much-needed form of escape from this hellhole of a year. I hope you can bear with me in the meantime. x

“Chris?”

“Out here,” Chris calls from out back, where he’s basking in the sun.

A couple of seconds later, Katie steps out onto the patio. “I didn’t think those brutes were going to let me through for a minute. Where did you find them? The Secret Service?”

Chris grunts. “Believe me, they’re nothing to do with me.”

“Paramount,” Zach explains from the chair beside him, Noah sprawled at his feet. “Hi Katie.”

She flashes him a smile as she takes a seat. “Hey Zach.”

“The studio got wind of what’s going on and they’ve given me round-the-clock bodyguards,” Chris says, contempt clear in his tone.

Zach tries not to roll his eyes; he happens to be one hundred percent on board with Chris having extra protection. “They said it’s just a precaution.”

“It’s ridiculous! Besides, it’s more about protecting the upcoming movie promotion than me.”

“So young… so cynical.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Thankfully for Zach, because he’s had this conversation a hundred times already, Katie deftly steers Chris away from the subject. “How’s the sore head?”

Chris grunts. “It’s getting better, but they said the headaches and dizziness could last a while. I’m not allowed to drive or do anything strenuous—not that I have a car to drive now anyway.”

“And how are you feeling about this whole situation? Do you want to, you know, talk about it?”

“Jesus, you sound like Mom,” Chris says, briefly closing his eyes to rub his temple. “No, I don’t want to talk about it—at all—but I keep having to; it’s like my life has become all about this and nothing else.”

“It’ll settle down once they catch whoever’s doing this,” Zach offers reassuringly.

“But the press already know something’s up—having bodyguards hanging around me is just going to confirm it. Either way, the Trek movie junket is going to be nothing but questions about this; I guarantee it.”

“Maybe.” Zach inclines his head. “But I’ll make sure you’re able to put some interesting words like bedlamite in the answers.”

Chris breaks into laughter and has to clutch his ribs. “Ow! Stop making me laugh! Damn it…”

“Isn’t laughter supposed to be the best medicine?”

“Not when you have cracked ribs, asshole.”

“Sorry,” Zach offers, but he’s grinning widely. “Okay, well, I need to go make some calls, so I’ll let you two catch up properly. You need anything?” he asks Chris, getting to his feet.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

As Zach steps inside, he hears Katie remark, “Seems like he’s taking good care of you.” He pauses out of view long enough to hear Chris’ reply.

“Yeah, I really don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Feeling a twinge of something in his chest, Zach represses the urge to keep listening and continues on his way.

Zach steps onto the red carpet, raising his hand to wave at the gathered fans and press representatives. He usually tries to avoid awards ceremonies, but Chris insisted on going since he got an unexpected nomination for an Indy movie he did the year before and Zach isn’t going to let him do it alone. Now he’s here, though, he’s wondering whether he shouldn’t have tried harder to talk Chris out of it. The whole atmosphere feels even crazier than normal; louder, brighter, more intense. It’s a cacophony of noise and a constant whirlwind of motion. 

As Zach is directed forward he spots Chris ahead of him, flanked by his two bodyguards despite the robust event security. That’s one of the stipulations for the evening; they’re taking no chances. Zach chats to a few journalists and poses for photographs, constantly keeping an eye on Chris while smiling for the cameras. He’s almost managed to catch up to Chris, who’s been held-up by a couple of tenacious-looking journalists, when he spots the red laser point that appears on Chris’ chest.

“Chris!”

Zach’s throat closes up as he tries to shout, tries to push forward against a mass of bodies, but the shot is already ringing out. He watches Chris stumble backwards with the impact, sees the patch of crimson spreading outwards from the hole in his chest, staining the pristine shirt. The shrill noises and commotion around Zach is muted, swallowed by the horror of watching Chris crumple to the ground in front of him. Chris’ shocked gaze locks with his for the briefest of moments before the light fades from his eyes.

“No!”

Zach is yelling before he even wakes up, shooting upright in panic. It takes a few terrifying seconds to separate nightmare from reality, helped by the fact that a very alive if somewhat sleepy and confused Chris appears in his doorway.

“What? What’s happened?!”

Zach’s out of bed and across the room in an instant, folding Chris into a tight hug.

“Zach? What is it?”

“Just… give me a minute.”

As Zach tries to slow his breathing and force the horrific images from his mind, he feels Chris’ arms encircle him just as tightly, reassuringly solid and steady. Still, he has to resist the urge to press his nose into Chris’ neck just to feel the steady pulse beneath the warm skin.

“Bad dream?”

Zach nods mutely.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. It was… you were…” he breaks off as his voice catches. Jesus, he needs to pull himself together before Chris thinks he’s losing his mind.

But when Chris pulls back enough to meet Zach’s eyes, his gaze projects nothing but love and reassurance. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Yeah,” Zach says softly, exhaling heavily; the remainder of his tension seems to flow out of him along with it. In its place comes the realization of how very close Chris’ lips are to his. The moment hangs between them, the silence filled with tension of a different sort. Zach breaks it with a shake of his head, averting his gaze as he steps back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Chris says without hesitation. “You’ve been here for me through all of this; now it’s my turn to be here for you.”

“I’m okay now. You can go back to bed.”

“You sure? I can stay if you want.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Zach. I don’t mind staying, honestly. Truthfully I’d probably sleep better next to you anyway. You’re not the only one who has bad dreams, you know.”

“Okay. Don’t hog the blankets, though,” he adds in an attempt to lighten the mood, and also to distract himself from the reality of Chris climbing into his bed.

Chris snorts. “I won’t. I might stray onto your side, though. I’m afraid my hugging tendencies aren’t suppressed by sleep.”

_Great_. 

Zach slides under the covers, horribly aware of how spectacularly wrong this could go. He can’t bring himself to regret the decision, though, not when images from his nightmare crowd back in the moment he turns out the light. The reassurance of having Chris beside him, his even breaths filling the silence, is enough to keep that horror at bay and allow sleep to reclaim him.

When Zach wakes, it’s to the uncomfortable realization that Chris wasn’t kidding—he’s the equivalent of a sleeping octopus, arms and legs wrapped around Zach’s body. And, worse, Zach’s body is responding. Suppressing a groan, which is at least half arousal since Chris really does smell good and he’s definitely sporting morning wood of his own, Zach tries to carefully shift out of Chris’ grasp, but the tentacles only tighten in response. Thus Zach is left with a dilemma—wait until Chris wakes and have to deal with the resulting awkwardness, or make a break for it and risk waking Chris up in the process. Neither option is particularly appealing, but he decides that the latter is considerably less problematic.

So, with a quick but hefty shove, Zach frees himself and gets out of bed, leaving an abruptly awake Chris looking around in confusion.

“What—”

“Sorry,” Zach says, quickly crossing the room to the en-suite. “I need the bathroom.” It’s true, he does. Of course, he has to wait fifteen minutes for his erection to go down first or he’ll be peeing all over himself and the ceiling. 

When Zach finally exits the bathroom, Chris is asleep again. He looks peaceful, his skin glowing golden in the morning light. Seeing as his arm is stretching right across Zach’s side of the bed, Zach decides to head to the kitchen for coffee.

He passes one of Chris’ security team on the way and nods politely, hoping they’re not aware of Chris’ current location. He doubts it; when Chris is in the relative safety of his home, their job is just to keep the place secure and vet any visitors. Still, he can’t help feeling a little awkward about it.

Putting fresh coffee on, Zach grabs a bite to eat while it’s brewing and then grabs two mugs from the cupboard. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Chris, apart from his love of food, it’s that the sooner he has coffee after he wakes, the less grouchy he’ll be. He’ll need breakfast pretty soon after that, of course, but coffee first. Zach makes it to Chris’ exact specifications and returns to the guest room, unsurprised to see that Chris hasn’t moved so much as an inch. As he puts the mug down, though, Chris stirs.

“What time is it?”

Zach grabs his phone from the bedside table and swipes the screen, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Almost nine-thirty.” He didn’t realize it was so late; both of them are generally early risers, but then it was a bad night. “You didn’t have to be anywhere this morning, I hope?”

“No… I don’t think so.” Grunting, Chris rolls over and squints up at him. “You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Zach replies, trying not to let his eyes wander over the substantial amount of skin now on view. “You?”

Chris hums an affirmative, his languorous stretch testing Zach’s self-control even more. “The best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while, actually. Maybe we should sleep together more often.”

Halfway through taking a mouthful of coffee, Zach splutters and ends up with a substantial amount of it down his front. As he curses and tries ineffectually to wipe it off, he swears he sees Chris smirking out of the corner of his eye.


End file.
